Monica, I don't understand my car. We are of different generations, and I just don't know how to talk to her.
Maybe you could just keep parking next to her. She is always in a more sociable mood when she has your car to talk to.
(I think maybe because my car makes fun of your car for stalling in the middle of 5th street traffic. That's called leveling, when you make fun of others to bring them down to your level.)
He swims. He gnaws. He builds dams. He moves us with his intelligence and grace. He is the Wily Beaver. And he is here to INTUBATE us all.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
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